


My Darling

by cathenian



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathenian/pseuds/cathenian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naturally Arthur has a labeller. One day Eames is bored and finds it. Arthur comes home to find labels all over the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Darling

Arthur was standing outside of his apartment in Boston. He was frozen as he contemplated the key in his hand, wondering if it would be such a good idea to unlock the door and go inside. Normally he wouldn't hesitate; normally he wouldn't be standing out in the hallway like an idiot. Then again, these weren't normal circumstances.

Eames was in the apartment, he had been since late last night. Of course, Arthur hadn't known that Eames had broken into his house until he had woken up in the morning. It had been creepy as all hell to wake up with Eames hovering over him.

Having a Glock pointed at his face hadn't made Eames so much as blink. He had only grinned, eyes glittering in amusement. Arthur had blinked blearily up at Eames, gun steady in his hands. After a few minutes that had felt tense to him passed, he lowered the gun to his side and ran a hand over his face.

"Good morning darling, I just needed a place to hide out. Job went wrong; I knew that you had a place here, blah blah blah. You know the way these things go." Eames explained with large hand gestures. He stepped back when Arthur pushed up from the bed and walked across the sunlit bedroom. Eames allowed his eyes to follow Arthur, tracing the expanse of smooth pale skin, hidden only by a pair of black boxers.

"Who did you screw over this time?" Arthur asked as he padded over to the bathroom. He glanced down at his hand, tilting the gun and watching the sunlight bounce off of the metal. He set it down beside the sink, cringing when he noticed his reflection. His hair was tangled in disarray and the right side of his face was creased from his pillow.

He ran his thin fingers through his black hair, pushing it back in an attempt to tame it and then smoothed his fingers over the side of his face, working out the indents. He gave up after a minute, going back into the bedroom to find something to wear. He found a pair of slacks and a pale blue dress shirt on the floor that could be considered acceptable.

Arthur slid into the slacks quickly, buttoning them as he trailed out of the bedroom again. This time he could hear Eames' footsteps creaking behind him. He pushed his arms into the sleeves of his shirt, not bothering to button it up. He deemed that starting the coffee pot was more important than dressing properly. "Who was it Eames?"

"Fine, I was running a job for Sabin." Eames finally responded as he sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter. Arthur added a new coffee filter to the pot, and then scooped in his coffee grounds. He turned it on, watching the red light flicker on. He spun around to look at Eames, cocking his head to the side. Eames sent a shrug and it said did you expect anything else from me?

"You can stay, but you're going to have to find something to amuse yourself with. I have to run errands all day." Arthur watched as Eames' expression brightened, his smile growing, revealing his crooked teeth.

"That's fine Arthur, it won't be the first time that I need to waste my day in a new and intriguing place." Eames had shrugged and leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands.

Arthur had left soon after that, going around town to pick up groceries and pick up his dry cleaning, all mundane things.

Now he was back home, key in hand and his arm wrapped around a paper bag filled to the brim with food and any other supplies that he would need for the rest of the week. His dry cleaning was draped over his arm, the black cloth of his suits bags hanging from his shoulder to wrist.

With a sigh, he gave in and slid the key into the lock, turning it over until he heard the tumblers click. With some expert manoeuvring, he extracted the key from the lock and managed to twist the handle, without dropping anything. He gave the door a kick to push it open and took in a deep breath to prepare him for whatever Eames had found to amuse himself.

Arthur stepped into his apartment, eyes tracing the smooth lines of furniture, the dark browns of the hardwood floors and the white walls that held his collection of slightly eclectic paintings. Considering that he had left Eames alone in his apartment, he had expected to come home to find all of his furniture relocated, to see folders of his research spread across the desk in the living room or his personal items strewn across the floor.

He hadn't expected this.

He toed his shoes off, eyes catching the little, almost unnoticeable changes in his apartment. He took a step forward, dropping his pile of suits on the back of the couch as he took in what all Eames had done in the few hours that he had been gone. He switched the grocery bag to his other arm so that he could trace the fingers of his right hand over the thin, shiny piece of what resembled one sided tape. It was unmistakably Eames' work, even if it was more subdued that what he normally would have done.

"I was only gone for two hours." Arthur breathed as he let his eyes flicker over the entirety of his apartment, stopping at each item in the room. Everything in the room had a white label, with the objects name printed in black ink over the white background. Couch, chair, vase, desk, pencil, filing cabinet, Francis Bacon's 'Studies for Portraits (Looking Right)', coffee table, M.C. Escher's 'Liberation' and even floor.

"After half an hour, I became immensely bored. Fate intervened when I was going through your desk and gave me a lovely labeller." Eames spoke up when he came out from the kitchen, a soft smile on his face as he inspected his work. He sauntered over to stand beside Arthur, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I can see that. Did you label everything?" Arthur asked as he continued to look around at all the labels. Foot stool, tele, bookshelf, phone, love seat, window, curtain, closet, cup of water, paperclip, ungodly pile of books and briefcase. Arthur couldn't believe that Eames had done this all in the time he had been gone. It was absolutely ridiculous because each individual item, excluding the 'ungodly pile of books', had its own label. "Jesus, you molested my poor labeler to finish this all didn't you?"

"Of course not! It was consensual." Eames gasped as if he was highly offended. He took the grocery bag from Arthur's stunned grip and took it to the kitchen, allowing Arthur to bathe in the labels. Stereo system, elastic band, folder, lamp, shoulder holster, jacket, remote, light switch and small palm tree.

"I'm never leaving you alone in my apartment again. Never ever," Arthur glanced over his shoulder when Eames returned to the living room and it was as if he'd said the magic words. The smile that broke out across Eames' face was warm, soft and inviting. It was everything that Eames could normally not be classified as.

Eames was sharp, always reading a person and testing them for weakness. He was a predator and that smile was at odds with the character Arthur had presumed Eames to be.

"That was just the result that I was hoping to achieve," Eames purred. His accented voice slid like silk over Arthur, freezing the point man in his tracks. Eames walked forward and even his walk was different. It wasn't his normally calculated lope, but an entirely different, liquid stride that he'd never seen before. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came to mind. "I fucking love making you speechless."

Arthur didn't have any time to react before Eames had a hand on his neck and he pulled him forward. He moved easily, his thoughts a steady slide of Oh god, oh god.

"By the way, I didn't burn Sabin. Made that up so you wouldn't kick me out," Eames laughed before he pressed his lips against Arthur's and licked into his mouth. Arthur opened beautifully under the touch of his tongue, lips parting and hands grasping at Eames' green, paisley, shirt. His finger's clenched in the surprisingly soft fabric and he wondered how long have I wanted this?

Eames didn't give him time to think, because he was pushing Arthur back, leading him towards the bedroom. His fingers quickly removed Arthur's worn, brown jacket and moved to undo all the buttons on his waist coat. He was adept at undoing the buttons and soon Arthur found himself shirtless as Eames tangled their legs together and they collapsed on the bed.

Their teeth clacked together painfully and Eames pulled back with a slight hiss. Arthur raised a hand to rub at his lips, sliding his fingers past his lips to run over his teeth. Eames watched the movements as his fingers worked on Arthur's pants, removing his belt and then pushing his slacks and boxers down. He kicked the clothes off and focused on the look of concentration on Eames' face. He flicked his tongue out, tracing the line of his teeth behind his lips and then sliding it over the side of his finger.

"Shit," Eames grunted and he reached blindly down to rummage through his pockets until he found a condom and a thin tube of lubricant. He set them down beside Arthur and latched onto the lithe mans hips, positioning them exactly where he wanted them, before grinding down into Arthur's hard and exposed cock.

"Were you this confidant that you were going to get laid?" Arthur asked as he nodded his head to the condom and lube. He helped Eames remove his shirt, listening to Eames' laugh as his words sank in.

"No, I'm just cocky." Eames' kicked his jeans and underwear down his legs as he spoke. Arthur heard the snap of the lube container and he had time to think, _how is this happening so fucking fast?_ Before Eames was running the wet tips of his fingers over the curve of Arthur's ass.

Arthur opened his mouth to tell Eames that they should slow down, because he didn't know what changed, how it had changed. But Eames slid one finger home quickly, not bothering with working up to it. It earned him an animalistic grunt and a twist of slim white hips. He took that as a sign to insert another digit and then he was scissoring them . Arthur jerked and panted into Eames' shoulder, mumbled words spilling from his hips couldn't stop moving against Eames' hand and he needed more.

"Stop, I'm ready," he gasped, his hands burying in the sheets of the bed.

Eames pulled his hand back and Arthur groaned at the loss,. Eames muttered into Arthur's ear nonsense words, before he thrust forward with a snap of his hips, sliding home and bottoming out in one swift movement.

"Oh shit," Arthur moaned and Eames stilled. Eames leaned forward, resting his forehead against Arthur's, his lips hovering centimetres above his, so when Arthur spoke, their lips brush. "Fucking move."

"Yeah," Eames panted, grabbed a hold of Arthur's hips and grinded into him with a twist of his hips that made Arthur throw his head back rock into the movement.

Arthur was lost, a mess compared to what he normally was. He wasn't stoic and perfectly put together, but a different kind of being all together. He writhed, arching up to meet Eames' thrusts, matching him with a twist of hips and undulation of his body. Eames movements were swift and sharp, well controlled and yet fluid.

Eames encircled Arthur's cock with his hand and worked him at a steady pace, keeping time with his thrusts. A flush spread down Arthur's neck and he traced it with his tongue and teeth; until Arthur was grasping at his hair and pulling him into another kiss.

Arthur came with a low shout, come spreading across their stomachs and Eames' hand. His muscles contracted and Eames felt himself loosing it. He drove forward, hiking up his partner's hips for better leverage. He bit into Arthur's shoulder as he came, shifting his hips as he rode out his climax.

The next thing Arthur knew was Eames panting into his neck and sliding out. It was then that he realized that they'd forgot the condom in their need for skin to skin contact and that Eames' come was dripping out of his hole. He shifted, the heat coming from Eames comfortable, but not enough to remove the need to remove the stickiness from his skin.

"Eames," Arthur managed to say after a few moments of silence and Eames pulled back from Arthur's neck. He looked down at Arthur with a crooked smile and the point man couldn't restrain his own dimpled response. His legs finally slid loosely from Eames hips, cradling Eames' body in the spread of his legs.

"I'll go get a cloth," Eames purred and pushed himself reluctantly from the bed. He left the room, Arthur's eyes on his well muscled back and traced the tattoo's curling across his skin. He padded off and Arthur heard the tap being turned on a moment later, then it was being shut off. He waited for Eames to return, sat up after a few minutes of waiting and was getting prepared to stand up when Eames came back into the room.

He had a cloth in one hand and the other hidden behind his back. Arthur flopped back into the back, not even caring what Eames was hiding. His limps felt heavy, languid and warm and all he really wanted to do was sleep. Eames settled back into the bed and started cleaning off the mess he had made with the warm cloth. It didn't take long for him to finish and when he had, he threw the cloth onto the floor.

He settled back into the bed and pressed his hand firmly on Arthur's chest. Arthur frowned and looked down at what Eames was pressing onto his skin, his gaze turning questioning as he looked back up at Eames. Eames grinned and traced his finger against the label. "I couldn't leave you being the only thing not labeled, now could I, My Darling?"

 __

Fin


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